


Reach for the Stars (And Other Idioms)

by airblends



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Challenge: Sports Anime Shipping Olympics | SASO 2017, Established Relationship, Fluff, Illustrated, M/M, idioms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 19:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11996412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airblends/pseuds/airblends
Summary: A collection of idioms accompanying five scenes playing out between Oikawa and Iwaizumi over the course of their relationship. (Team Iwaoi's Main Round 2 entry for SASO 2017)





	Reach for the Stars (And Other Idioms)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! First of all, please check out the full entry over [here](https://saso2017-r2.dreamwidth.org/3466.html)! It's a picture book you can flip through! We worked super hard on it, and the illustrations accompanying these little ficlets can also be found inside! If we ever decide to put the illustrations in here, I'll add the artist as co-author, naturally. If not, I'll add a link to wherever they decide to upload them. :)

 

 **_to wear your heart on your sleeve;  
_** _making your feelings apparent; to show your emotions instead of hiding them_

 

It begins with a tiny hole in Hajime’s favorite sweater. He can’t even remember how he got it, it just appeared one day, mysteriously.

He doesn’t really mind — he still wears it — and he doesn’t think anything of it until Tooru holds him back by the sleeve as he’s about to make breakfast one morning.

“Your sweater,” he says mournfully, “it’s got a hole in it.”

Hajime shrugs, but Tooru isn’t satisfied. “It’s the sweater I gave to you, so we can’t leave it like that,” he announces, like Hajime should have realized on his own.

“You stay here and eat, I’ll be back in a second.” With that, Tooru shuffles out of the room, muttering under his breath. Hajime shakes his head and grabs a carton of eggs to make omelettes. He knows Tooru will want some, too.

 

*

 

Tooru returns with a needle and thread, and before Hajime knows it they’re both sitting on the floor, cross-legged, facing each other.

“Hold still or you’ll get hurt by the needle, Iwa-chan,” Tooru mumbles without looking up, concentration written all over his face. It’s so cute, the way he’s fawning over him, even if it’s such a mundane thing to worry about. A hole-y sweater. Hajime smiles, glad Tooru can’t see.

Tooru’s fingers move deliberately, grazing Hajime’s skin every time he pulls the needle up, and he’s cradling his hand with so much care it’s nearly too much.

“Done,” he says eventually, lacing their fingers together as he admires his handiwork. He has sown a little heart-shaped patch over the hole, right where he’d reach to feel Hajime’s pulse.

“Thanks,” Hajime says simply, suddenly lost for words. There’s a lump in his throat, preventing anything else from coming out.

“Do you like it, Iwa-chan?” Tooru bites his lip, searching Hajime’s face for clues.

I do, Hajime thinks, because it’s something only Tooru would do for him, because Tooru, if asked, would play it down as some sort of joke to hide the way he truly feels. Hajime squeezes Tooru’s hand tight.

“It’s perfect.”

 

 

 

_it takes two to tango;_  
_a saying to emphasize that an activity needs two people to make it happen;  
_ _used to convey that everyone involved in a situation carries the blame_

 

It is late into the night, but the windows are wide open, curtains blowing in the wind. Tooru’s palm is warm and a little sweaty where it’s clasped in Hajime’s hand. Music plays quietly from the radio on the windowsill, but it might as well be off altogether. They’re not moving to the rhythm.

“Sorry,” Tooru sputters, again and again, once for every time he steps on Hajime’s toes.

“It never fails to amaze me how clumsy you can be off the court,” Hajime says, but the statement lacks bite. His toes do hurt, and it doesn’t look like there’s any kind of improvement on the horizon. But still, Hajime doesn’t let go of Tooru’s hand – he pulls him in by the waist and they continue to dance their wobbly but passionate rendition of the tango.

“We’re in this together,” Tooru had said upon opening the invitation to his cousin’s wedding, Hajime already marked down as his plus one.

“Do we really have to dance?”

“I don’t know. But I want to, with you.” That is all Tooru needed to say to win Hajime over. He’ll put up with sore feet any day to hear those words again.

 

 

 

**_love is blind;  
_** _used to say that people do not see the faults of the people that they love_

  


A pair of cold hands cover Hajime’s eyes where he’s sitting on the couch, the old Western on TV vanishing from sight.

“Guess who?”

Hajime knows, of course, exactly who it is. “An idiot?” he teases, hoping to get a rise out of Tooru.

Tooru hums, like he’s thinking something over. “Mmh, an idiot with a surprise.”

The fact that Tooru called himself an idiot makes it obvious that he regrets it. The fight. Usually, he keeps quiet about them, hopes the problem will solve it self somehow. This is a good sign.

“So you’re trying to placate me, is that it?”

“Partly,” Tooru says, remorse in his voice. “I got them before we fought, but I thought, why not give them to you now? Keep your eyes closed, Iwa-chan?”

Hajime does keep his eyes closed, mostly because he possesses a healthy bit of self-discipline. Tooru’s hands disappear, and a faint rustling goes through the air.

“Open wide,” Tooru says, and then he pops a little bit of milk chocolate in Hajime’s mouth. It’s nice and cold and just the right kind of sweet. Hajime opens his eyes, seeking out Tooru’s face. He’s next to him now.

“You got me chocolates?”

“For White Day,” Tooru mumbles. “But then we fought and I thought, what if I’ll never get to give these to you? I couldn’t stand that thought. I’m sorry, Iwa-chan.”

Hajime’s heart gives a leap at the look on Tooru’s face. “Idiot,” he says, taking Tooru’s hands, “I wouldn’t have left you for something stupid like that fight. We fight all the time, isn’t that kind of our thing?” He chortles at the disbelief in Tooru’s eyes. “Let’s make up, okay? I’m sorry, too.”

At that, Tooru smiles, and he procures the box of chocolates from behind the armrest to try and give them to Hajime.

Hajime accepts them, but he doesn’t eat the one he grabs. Instead he holds it up in front of Tooru’s mouth, a toothy grin on his lips.

“Let’s share them, yeah?”

 

 

 

**_crying over spilt milk;_  
** _to express regret about something that has already happened or cannot be changed_

  


Hajime wakes to the sound of ceramic shattering. When he groggily slouches into the kitchen to see what caused it, he is met with a puddle of cereal milk on the floor and a sobbing Tooru right next to it.

“What …?”

“Iwa-chan, my life is in shambles,” Tooru cries, wiping his snotty nose on his sleeve. “I’ll never be happy again! It’s all so sad, Iwa-chan, what am I going to do … the poor cornflakes…”

“Okay,” Hajime says resolutely, stepping around the milk and hooking his arms under Tooru’s armpits to heave him to his feet, “how much did you drink last night?”

Tooru hiccoughs. “I don’t remember.”

“Thought so. C’mon, no more crying now. What’s done is done, can’t do anything about it. Let’s get you back to bed.”

Hajime half carries half pushes Tooru into the bedroom. He sets him up with a large glass of water and two aspirin and tucks him in. Immediately, Tooru tries getting back up, but in his state, Hajime is clearly the stronger one of the two.

“Stay put,” he orders, a hand on Tooru’s chest, “I’ll clean up your mess. You can thank me later.”

“Iwa-chan, the cereal …”

“I’ll give it a proper funeral. Happy?”

“Sad …” Tooru slurs, and then his eyes slip closed and he starts to snore quietly. As much as he wants to be mad at him for overstepping his limits, Hajime can’t help but laugh to himself. He’ll just have to remind Tooru of the murdered cereal the next time he decides to go out clubbing on his own. That should do.

 

 

 

 

**_to be all mouth;  
_** _to talk boastfully about something without having the intention or skill to follow up on your words_

  


“There is no way Iwa-chan has better technique than me. I’ve had years of practice with multiple people, so I’m clearly the superior kisser.”

Hajime crosses his arms. Tooru perches on the countertop in their tiny kitchenette, legs swinging, hand clutching a glass of apple juice. This isn’t the first time he brings up the subject; for some reason he seems to spend a lot of his time thinking about it.

“You say that every time, but you forget,” Hajime says, walking toward Tooru, “that I know you better than you think I do.”

Tooru smirks. He tips his glass bottom up and empties it in one gulp before hopping down and building himself up in front of Hajime. There’s a moment of quiet assessment and bated breath before Tooru kisses him, arms circling around Hajime’s neck. His lips are soft and slow in their movement and sweet like red apples. He knows how to balance pressure and tongue, and it’s not a bad kiss, but.

Hajime grabs Tooru’s arms and pushes him away, into the wall. Upon impact, Oikawa inhales sharply, cheeks flushing a delicate pink.

“My turn,” Hajime says, keeping Tooru’s arms pinned over his head as he slides their lips together again. Where Tooru had been gentle, Hajime is much more forward. He sucks Tooru’s bottom lip into his mouth and bites down – not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to elicit a quiet moan. Satisfied, Hajime scatters more kisses along Tooru’s cheek and jaw, placing a final one right to the side of his neck. With a little huff, he lets go of Tooru’s wrists and steps back to take stock of his work.

Except, when he does, Tooru follows suit,  blushing furiously.

“If I admit defeat,” he mumbles, tugging at the sleeve of Hajime’s sweater, “will you do that again?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I no longer use this account, but you can find me over at lumiellle.tumblr.com and on here as lumielle <3


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